A Green Sun

By Charles Gray

Fusion was impossible. Nobody would ever make a practical fusion reactor.
Jolene Wu didn’t believe that. She was going to change the world with her fusor design, and free mankind from the tyranny of fossil fuels. But when the largest oil field in the world came up empty and gas prices spiked to ten dollars a gallon, it was no longer about changing the world.
It was about saving the world.

A Green Sun is a story that could happen tomorrow, a hard science fiction prediction of what might be, if mankind only had the courage to strive for building, instead of simply getting by with less and less. Like Robert Heinlein's "The Man Who Sold the Moon," this story is about building the future you choose, not passively accepting the future others say must be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles Gray
• Release date: Aug 7, 2011

Charles Gray

Charles Gray is a 40 something history student who has likely spent far, far more time looking at the books of Parliament than is healthy for most people.On the other hand, historians argue with dead people and thus always get the last word. He is currently working on a number of science fiction and fantasy books, as well as "Abolition and Social Change" an academic work that will be certain to put many undergraduates to sleep, should they be assigned it in class.

Book preview

A GREEN SUN

BY

Charles E. Gray

Cover By: Laura Burchard

Additional Edits by: Rob Rau

All typographical errors are purely the responsibility of the Author.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright, 2011 Charles Gray

Dedication

Dedicated my friends and family, and especially those at RPG.net who have assisted me in reading and tuning up this story. Especially to those who have endured my whining about said story. .

Table of Contents

Title

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Postscript

Prologue

The beach had once been a place where families walked and played. James could almost imagine the sounds of the kids running back and forth, the parents calling to them as their lunches were made ready, the smell of the wood burning in the fire pits scattered up and down the beach.

Not now. Now, even with the bright orange barriers, the beach was nothing less then a toxic waste dump. Further out, the water had a deceptively alluring rainbow sheen t it, another layer of death for anything that made the error of swimming in that oh so pretty water. Where the waves had passed, the dark tar of the oil had left itself in a gummy mess, studded with dying wildlife. Birds and fish alike were entrapped in the oil, a few volunteers trying to remove the avians back to cleaning stations further up the beach.

Not that it would do much good. James had worked in oil for nearly 15 years, and he knew that in the majority of those cases, the birds were going to die, to say nothing of any eggs or young who had lost their parents. Over the entire scene, the smell of the oil rose like the miasma of a great beast, dead and rotting.

Which might well be the case, he muttered and turned to the man standing by him. The CEO of McConnell refining, James had come out to personally see the damage, and more importantly, talk away from the news cameras. Okay. I’ve come, I’ve seen and now I want to puke. What’s the rest of the bad news.

Well, Mr. McConnell, obviously the rig is dead—even if they get the leak stopped, it’s going to be a permanent shutdown. The company representative frowned, looking at his paper. But in the long term, we believe we can get production back up by using the other wells. The amount of government interference will not be...insurmountable.

James raised his eyebrows. "Really? Right now your company is sitting on top of the worst disaster to hit the US ecology in the history of oil extraction. Exxon Valdez doesn’t even show up in the running. Folding his arms, he stared down at the smaller man. Mr. Kenan, my company doesn’t own any wells, and right now we get about 20% of our crude from you. This is going to hurt us, and I’m concerned about the long term here. One work scarred hand gestured at the ocean. You fucked up. I’m an oil man, and I can already say that you were pushing the rig faster than you should have and the report, when it gets put out by the government is going to say exactly that. This isn’t going to be a case where you can blame it on some conveniently dead worker who didn’t read a dial right."

Kenan looked around to assure himself nobody else was listening in, then spoke in a lower voice, True, but well, the United States needs oil. Seriously, we’re going to take a big economic hit on this, but shut down drilling? You know as well as I do it’s not going to happen. They handed out these permits, even though this part of the nation is in the crosshairs of half the major hurricanes we see every season. They’re not going to kill it for an accident like this. We’re just going to have to look properly chastened for the cameras.

I hope you’re not the one who is trying to look ‘chastened’, James said.

Me? God no. Kenen frowned, looking out at the desecrated beach. "Yes, it’s terrible. Even if I was just a soulless moneymaker, the lost money would be terrible, and I don’t enjoy the fact that those men died, or that most of the news is focusing on the spill, not their deaths."

The spill is directly impacting people, James said. Of course they’re focusing more on it.

True, but regardless, Mr. McConnell, I can assure you that we’ll be able to provide your crude, albeit at a slightly higher price.

James grunted, looking down at the ruined beach sand. Finally, he nodded. I’ll let my people know about that.

Thank you, Mr. McConnell.

Later in the limo, James tapped the tablet he’d been using. They could pass the higher prices on to the retailers, and of course they’d pass it on to the consumers.

But there’s an end to that road, James thought. A consumer could keep buying until he had no more money. Then he stopped.

More importantly, a consumer couldn’t prepare for some disaster like this that exploded out of nowhere. Oh, James was certain that there’d be dozens of people telling all and sundry how the disaster was completely predictable, but that wasn’t the case. You could skimp on safety and press your workers a long, long time before something went wrong, and if you were say, a CEO who might not be around when the bill came due, it could be a smart move.

Shareholders, after all, seldom asked where that extra little bit of money came from.

James tapped his hand against the glass of the limo’s window, watching a group heading towards the beach.

Well, James muttered. I think it’s time we started looking at other avenues, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to get pulled down the next time some company screws up a rig. Dad was still thinking about the biofuel, so James would give it a read. However, he wasn’t at all confident about it. On the other hand...

He smiled as he opened up the pad’s browser.

Sometimes, keeping track of your ex was a very good move.

Especially when she was the mad scientist type.

Chapter One

There are two separate and equal fallacies one can fall into. The first is seeing private business as innately evil. The second is seeing it as the solution to all the economies problems. Both unavoidably lead to disaster...

The 21st Century and the Economic Revolution

James McConnell finished up his last document of the day, closed the file out and shut down the computer. In his late thirties, the CEO of McConnell refining was solidly built, work scars on his hands and a weather beaten face seeming out of place in the richly appointed office.

He shook his head, close cropped hair dark against the sun falling in through the window, the cracking towers and pipelines outside catching the afternoon sun.

Dad...is not going to like this, James muttered, then shrugged and got up. Postponing things wouldn’t make the discussion any more pleasant. On the other hand, it was the CEO’s job to tell the owner unpleasant truths, and the family bond at least meant he probably wouldn’t be fired. James smiled tightly at that, as he left his office, nodding to the secretary as he left. His sister had found out the hard way that William McConnell wasn’t above easing those who couldn’t hack it out to less vital jobs.

Be fair, James, Marcie wasn’t really interested in this, and was just following in the family’s steps. Easing her out was probably the best thing dad did for her. It wasn’t as if she was living on her inheritance after all. Given that James got a bit queasy at the sight of blood and she spent her day opening people up to keep them among the living a bit longer, he was perfectly willing to let her have her dream.

Dad in, Denise? James asked as he walked into the anteroom of his fathers office.

Denise nodded. He’s waiting for you sir. Something about wanting to know if we’re all going to become farmers?

Heh. He would ask that. Don’t worry about that, Denise, James told her. I’m afraid there aren’t any farms in our future.

Whatever you say, sir, Denise replied as she flipped a golden lock of hair over her forehead.

Once inside, James closed the soundproofed door and looked over at his father. William was cut from the same stocky frame as his son, perhaps going a bit to fat in his 6th decade. On the other hand, he pointed out that given most of his life had been spent in the Navy, and after that handling the 12th largest refinery company in the United States, he could be forgiven for liking his steak.

So, William asked, what do you think of their proposal?

I think that they could use it as fertilizer to help their product grow, James said as he sat down. It’s crap dad. Honestly and truly, that’s all I can say.

Our investors see things differently.

"Our investors, James emphasized the word, include a lot of people who own farm land, who know people who own farmland, or who are hoping to get in on the boom. James shook his head. It’ll go the same way the real estate boom went, only worse."

William leaned back in his seat and gestured to his son. Okay, Mr. CEO, explain it to me in the same way we’ll have to explain it to them.

Hmph, James grunted. I’m not certain I can explain it to you like that, because you’re not deaf– half of them only think a quarter ahead. Thank god we have most of the voting stock. They younger man paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he went on, "Okay, simple fact, bio fuel isn’t sustainable now, won’t be sustainable in the future, and could lead to a huge, no shit disaster. Point the first. It takes a lot of vegetation to convert into a single gallon of gas, for the same reason a horse has to eat a lot more in terms of pounds of intake per work hour than a lion does. The energy density sucks. So, we need to have a lot of farming, acres, hundreds and even thousands of acres for every gallon we fill."

William raised one gray eyebrow. "Okay, counter point. There are a lot of places where farmers are being paid to not grow food, and we also have fuel stock that grows where edible crops won’t. Switchgrass, algae, you name it. So it’s not like we’re going to be buying prize wineryland."

You read the pamphlet as well, eh? James said, a sour expression on his face. Here’s the problem dad. If we go biofuel, we can’t just say ‘oh well, bad harvest this year, we’ll do better next year.’ We have to be able to depend on it, year after year, and it’ll be an ever increasing percentage of our total fuel use. Bigtime biofuel production is going to send food crops through the roof price wise, and it also puts us one major blight from a disaster. Just imagine having to chose between food to eat or fuel to get it to market. He leaned forward, his voice turning grim, "A disaster like that will happen, you can be certain of that. I’ve read every one of these little pamphlets and none of them answer: what happens if we get a dust bowel. You’ll have agro companies running their fields 365 days a year with no fallow time, so that they can be certain to make money and sooner or later, it’ll ether collapse due to drought or blight, or they’ll need so much in the way of fertilizer that the energy budget will go out the window... and then it’ll collapse."

Not everyone agrees, son.

I know. They’re wrong. James looked out of the office window towards the entry gate to the refinery. At least today there weren’t any protestors outside the gate. "Final point. If we get involved in this, every